


contrary to his opinion, bow-ties are NOT cool

by elrickrolled



Category: Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: But Donna Says They Aren't, Donna being Donna, Eleven Loves Fish Fingers and Custard, Eleven being Eleven, Eleven is a Bit Guilty, Eleven meets Donna, Fezzes and Bowties Are Cool, Set In Middle of Series 4
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-08
Updated: 2019-11-08
Packaged: 2021-01-25 10:40:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,938
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21354916
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/elrickrolled/pseuds/elrickrolled
Summary: ... and neither are fezzes. Donna is just minding her own business as she waits for the Doctor with his spiky hair and sideburns to show up in front of her house. When the TARDIS does materialise, she realises the man that emerges from the familiar blue box is an unfamiliar one.It can't be HER Doctor. The Doctor she knows doesn't go in absurd fez or bow-tie phases, nor wears a ridiculous tweed jacket and braces. The Doctor she knows doesn't flap his arms around and act so explosive and boisterous.And sometimes, he won't look at her directly in the eye. One-shot.
Relationships: Eleventh Doctor & Donna Noble
Comments: 4
Kudos: 51





	contrary to his opinion, bow-ties are NOT cool

In Chiswick, Donna mused, life was so awfully _ boring. _

Prior to when she first met the Doctor, she was sure she had had her life set out perfectly (at least for her); friends, a lovely husband-to-be, and a never-ending flow of gossip. But on her wedding day, when she had suddenly been transported to the Doctor’s blue box and discovered a whole new world beyond her own…

She knew immediately that she regretted her decision a few days after she had rejected the Doctor’s offer to travel with her. Today had felt like one of those times, before the Adipose and meeting the Doctor again: mediocre, boring. 

The sun shone in the sky, not a cloud to be seen. For Donna, a woman who had seen planets that orbited around several suns, with once the TARDIS coming close to one of those suns themselves, it had felt almost ridiculous to even think that there was just one big yellow ball in the whole of the Solar System. She had been to history, to Pompeii, to planets people would barely dream of existed and met different shapes and sizes and personalities of aliens that she knew any astronomer or conspiracy theorist would pay millions for her to reveal information about them.

Now, she was back here. She’d told the Doctor she’d wanted to visit her mum and her grandfather, and he’d happily agreed, saying he’d had “timey-wimey” business to take care of and he’d pick her up once he was done. Most likely, the timey-wimey business was probably very exciting and she was sure she’d have the time of her life, the red-haired woman mused. At home, Wilf had kept on pushing her to talk about her adventures. She was happy to talk about them, but that would have been fine if her mother didn’t have to keep nagging at her and complaining about her relationship with the Doctor.

Donna had to keep on reassuring Sylvia life with the Doctor was perfectly fine, Wilf chiming in that if anything the Doctor was giving her some well-needed, once-in-a-lifetime alien experience. Her mother had just groaned. 

Her friends had all seemed to forget about her a bit, telling her how much she had missed then talking about their own fun, personal experiences over the phone. She’d felt a little left out, but had dismissed this quickly. Life with the Doctor was definitely more fun and eventful than what they could ever do. 

But _ Nerys. _ Nerys! She’d met the woman on the street and their brief encounter made Donna decide that she was the _ final _straw. 

She couldn’t wait for the TARDIS to return.

Wait. 

She could hear it.

Outside, as she stared out the window, pondering her monotonous life outside of the TARDIS, she heard the familiar sound of the TARDIS’ arrival. 

Already? 

Though, it probably would have been a week since he left. It was one of the quirks of being a Time Lord, Donna mused. 

“Doctor!” She opened the door and rushed towards the TARDIS, excitedly. She waited for that familiar spiky-brown-haired face to emerge out of the blue box, telling her their next great adventure to anywhere in time and space and then open the door to let her in. 

Instead, an unfamiliar face stepped out, stumbling as he did so. 

“Whoo!” the newcomer looked around, not seeming to notice Donna. “Looks like we’re a bit off track, old girl, we’re not…” his voice wavered away and he stopped patting the TARDIS when he faced her. 

The man in question, who had stepped out of the TARDIS, was definitely _ not _ her Doctor. The Doctor she knew had spikey brown hair with _ awful _ sideburns, a smart shirt and tie sometimes donned under a long coat, those stupid sandshoes and occasionally, rectangular spectacles that made him look like a nerd. This man was different. There was a red, cyclindrical fez on his windswept floppy hair, along with old-days-style braces and a bow tie (God, what an _ appalling _ fashion sense), and a tweed jacket. Their appearances were _ nothing _like each other. Her Doctor was young, but not too young, she knew. He kept a firm serious composure with the occasional dry, sarcastic humour. This man seemed nothing of the sort. 

For the start, Donna mused, this man looked as if he was ten years younger than the Doctor. 

She approached this man and slapped him on the side of his face. 

The fez fell off. 

“OW! Ow! I - uh - oh.” He rubbed his cheek absentmindedly, staring at Donna, as if analysing her, nodding slightly as he did so. There was a long period of silence, until the man spoke up nervously, as if afraid of being hit again. He looked worried upon seeing Donna, nervously biting his lip. “I’m… in Chiswick, right?”

“Damn right you are,” she told him harshly. “What have you done with the Doctor?”

“The Doctor?” He stared at the ground, the nervous expression becoming an even more worried one. This annoyed Donna a little.

“Why have you _ got _his blue box?!" she demanded. "Have you got the Doctor? Are you here to take me too?”

The TARDIS thief looked at her as if she was an idiot. She _ hated _ that look. “No!” he said, choosing this time to pick up the fez that had fallen. “What do you mean, I’ve _ got the Doctor?” _ He walked away from her, and Donna had thought he was running off, but instead he came back and was now circling around her hurriedly, muttering things. “... no you idiot, she doesn’t really know yet, I’m too early. Why, you stupid box, _ why... _” He stopped, then turned back to her. “So, where were we?”

“You’ve stolen it,” Donna echoed from before. “You’ve got his blue box. I mean, that’s the only explanation.”

“No! That’s my TARDIS, and-”

“So you’re another Time Lord, then?” Donna guessed. “I didn’t know that, but I can’t imagine people of the same race as the Doctor with two hearts and those blippy-bloppy screwdrivers running around… _ God, _ that’d be a _ disaster.” _

“Blippy - blippy bloppy?! That’s worse than timey-wimey.” He reached into his tweed jacket, and pulled out a metal stick-looking contraption, that shone with a green light at its tip. Then it came to her realisation that it was a sonic screwdriver - that thing that had the _ most annoying _bleeping noise. Just like the Doctor’s. But it did look more impressive than the Doctor’s blue-lighted one, she had to admit. 

“It’s a bleeping thing,” she said lamely.

  
“Yeah.” 

“Does it bleep even more than the Doctor’s?”

“Yeah.”

“Oh God help us all then,” she groaned, which the man responded with a small chuckle. “You know who I am, then?”

“No,” Donna looked at him, annoyed. “What’s your name? If he’s the Doctor, then you must be TARDIS Thief or something?”

The TARDIS thief - other Time Lord, whatever - opened his mouth to reply, but Donna gave him no mercy. “This has Nerys’ name all over it, doesn’t it? That _ Nerys!” _

“I never did get to properly meet Nerys,” the man muttered, almost inaudibly.

“What’d you say?”

“Well, you see, Donna-” she had been surprised by this, the man had used her name, as he continued to explain, “you might not be believing at first, and that’s okay, but the point is, I’m not some TARDIS thief or other Time Lord… oh, and yes, I know your name, Donna, that’s because _ I am the Doctor!” _

She slapped him again.

  
“Ow!” he rubbed on the affected area again. “I really am, you know! TARDIS, screwdriver, _ I even told you your name-” _

“Liar! If you really want to impersonate him, you better start _ looking _ like him first!” Donna hurled back at him. “He’d never in his right mind wear something as _ stupid _as what you’re wearing now!” She pointedly gestured at the bowtie.

“Bowties are _ cool! _” he protested. “Anyways, while they are cool, not the point! We Time Lords - we change our physical form!” the Doctor-imposter quickly explained as Donna was opening her mouth to reply again. “Yes, that sounds weird. When Time Lords are about to die, it’s this thing where we can, you know, sort of cheat death. But we have to change our faces and our bodies - but we’re still the same! Same man, different face!” His tone sounded almost desperate for her to believe him.

She almost did, but Donna thought that she needed to give him one last challenge. Being with the Doctor made her more aware of things these days. 

“When did we first meet?” Donna hurled at him in a challenging tone. "If you're the Doctor, then you should know that."

Silence. 

Then, the Doctor-imposter spoke, gaving her a slight smile, while nervously tapping his shoe against the ground and glancing around him, almost as if not wanting to meet her gaze for more than a couple of seconds. 

“London, Christmas Eve, 2007.” Donna opened her mouth to reply, but he continued, “Don’t you remember, Donna Noble? You were about to marry someone, and didn’t invite me!” He made a small pout. “Though, I suppose I didn’t know you by then. We met, you called me a Martian. Looked pretty in your wedding dress!” He flapped his hands around excitedly. “Racnoss. Lots of things happened. I asked you to join me in the TARDIS.”

“And I went with you,” Donna said, nodding genuinely. The Doctor laughed and shook his head, tapping the redhead in the forehead with his index finger, saying, “Don’t be _ stupid _, Donna! You flat out rejected me and my charms! But,” he paused for dramatic effect, “you came back! We fought the Adipose. Fun! Pompeii, Ood, Sontarans, Messaline, Agatha Christie, the Library. Done the whole lot. And Midnight!” he nodded, then shook his head immediately upon seeing Donna’s confused face when he had brought up the last part. “No, not Midnight. Forget I said Midnight.”

_ Why hasn’t the Doctor told me this? _

Is this the Doctor’s future? Donna wondered. 

  
“Yes, I’m his future, I’m the man who came right after him,” he said quickly, as if reading Donna’s mind. “Dying. Changed face. Don’t ask more questions; I could be spoiling.”

She sighed. “There’s no-one in the house right now, Mum’s at bingo and Granddad is at this space museum. Of course,” she added, slightly smirking at him. “We’ve seen way more. C’mon in.”

Even though Donna hadn’t doubted his tone when he had declared he was well and truly the Doctor, she knew tension was still high and lingering in the atmosphere like a bad smell. This man, Doctor or not, had seemed like a trustworthy fellow; his very presence made Donna inclined to trust him more as each moment passed. 

“Oi, let’s go, unless you want to be left outside,” Donna said. “Have a cuppa and you can be on your way.”

The apparent-Doctor-from-the-future was staring back at his TARDIS, sighing with an uneasy look on his face. He looked back at her, then slightly grinned at her as if reassuring her, then slowly ambled after her as he followed her into the Noble residence. 

_ /-/-/-/-/ _

“Seriously, fish fingers!?”

“And custard,” he added smugly, to Donna’s disgust as he dipped the battered rectangular piece of food into the sweet, thick cream like this was all perfectly normal. Donna had told him there were left over chips and snacks from the pantries, but the man who called himself the Doctor had reached into the fridge and had taken out her mum’s custard and her grandfather’s fish fingers leftovers, placing the latter in the microwave to be reheated. She didn’t know what he was planning to do at first, but his motive became clear when she had seen the man take out the bowl of fish fingers and dipped it straightaway into the thick, sweet custard. 

“My Doctor is going to turn into a _ lunatic _ in the future… more of a freaking lunatic than he is now!” Donna gestured to his tweed coat, which was now slung over a couch arm. “Your fashion sense _ and _your taste buds!” 

“Bowties are cool,” the future-Doctor replied indignantly, with bits of fish finger still in his mouth. Donna glared at him - or rather, she glared pointedly at the bowtie lying neatly on his chest. “I still can’t believe, out of all the clothes you could have picked-”

“Oi, what’s the problem, Donna?” he hurled back straightening said piece of clothing for dramatic effect, “Bowties are _ cool! _Everyone really seems to hate them, it’s not fair-”

“At least lose the fez, you Martian!”

“Rubbish! Fezzes are _ cool! _ I don’t see why everyone has a problem with them. But you know what isn’t cool? _ Monks! _ And you know what I’ve always wanted to have? I always wanted ginger hair, you know?” the Doctor said wistfully. “I died, changed faces, lived again, but _ still not ginger! _When will I ever be-”

“Astro Boy, have you ever thought of _ dyeing your hair?” _

“That’s an insult to the original Astro Boy,” he grunted, insulted. “Anyways, dyeing my hair. I can’t do that. It’s cheating.”

“Oh, he’s _ cheating, _he says,” Donna groaned dramatically. She decided to change the topic. “What have you been up to these days?”

“Me? Oh…” the Doctor spends a few moments thinking about this thoughtfully. “Went a few places. Met a little girl, didn’t come back for her until twelve years later. Fought a lot of aliens, even though I tried to tell them they _ were nice! _Met Vincent Van Gogh, President Nixon, fought a Siren on a pirate ship, got married-”

“You got _ married?” _ Donna widened her eyes and took a step forward. The thought was almost laughable. _ Married? _How in the world, how in hell, how in all the high heavens did the Doctor get married? Was it part of a plan to lure out an alien? Was it an attempt to repair history? The Doctor was definitely a person she couldn’t imagine getting married.

But then again, when she and Martha and her Doctor had landed on a war-torn planet whose natives had forcibly created the Doctor’s daughter, Donna had learned that the Doctor had been a father, with a wife and children before. 

There was yet more to learn about him, Donna knew. But that did not neutralise her shock, nonetheless.

“Married?! What kind of idiot would fall for you, spaceman?” she said jokingly, letting out a small laugh as she elbowed him gently in the ribs.  
  


“Well, that’s quite of a long story.” The Doctor buried his face into his hands. Donna had initially thought this was in exasperation, but it had also been one where he was trying to contain a laugh. “I had two companions, a married couple. So, to top it all off, instead of the cherry, I got to marry their daughter. Fun.”

“Oh, I hope to _ God _that kid isn’t one of mine.”

“Ah…” the Doctor gave her a small smile, then turned his focus on his fish fingers. “No, that’d be rubbish. A nightmare, really. One Noble is enough.” 

She grinned when he said that. It really sounded like a Doctor thing to say. 

They had spent the next half hour with usual chitchat; the Doctor of the future tried his best to not reveal anything that could be disastrous if his predecessor were to know. When Donna had pressed him for a couple of topics, his mouth would twitch to a bigger smile, put his finger to his lips and say, “Spoilers.” Then, he’d slap his forehead and tell himself that saying that one word “was a spoiler itself.” 

(Donna had remembered the word ‘Spoilers’ before, back in the Library with those team of archaeologists. She had some curious thoughts about this and the Doctor, but decided not to bring it up. Best if she wasn’t spoiled herself.)

Donna had felt very comfortable with this Doctor; he was very easygoing and seemed a lot more joyful than his past face (not that her Doctor wasn’t easygoing or joyful), along with this Doctor of the future was a very explosive, hyperactive and overly cheerful. But both Doctors, she knew, shared their similarities. They still shared their mysteries, their little hidden mysteries they wrapped with ties and bowties, with that little clever expression they both held. 

But this man, he still seemed so far away compared to the Doctor Donna knew. He’d sometimes waver away in a conversation when Donna was talking about her adventures with her Doctor (which, of course he knew about already), and stare into space absentmindedly until Donna brought him back to Earth (figuratively, of course). He seemed worried about something. 

However, she tried bringing this up, but the Doctor had quickly shut her down inconspicuously with a joke. So she decided to drop the subject. 

After about forty minutes, the Doctor had suddenly stood up.

“Well, of course, I can’t overstay my welcome. Got to go. Planets to see. Aliens to meet. Presidents to have a chat and a drink with. Of tea, of course. Not wine. Wine’s horrid.”

“Are you sure you don’t want to stay a bit more?” Donna asked. 

“Well, that would be nice,” the Doctor admitted, “but I really wouldn’t want to run into old me.” He noticed Donna’s eyebrows raised in surprise, then added, “Yes, I know, old me is coming soon, I remember _ that _much.” He shivered. “Running into old me. That would be bad.”

Maybe when she first began her travels with the Doctor, Donna would have been ultimately shocked had she heard that then. But she had been travelling with the man for such a long time now, and the Doctor had seemed to eat weirdness and the impossible for breakfast, lunch and dinner, this declaration seemed like one of the most normal things she’d ever heard from the Doctor. 

Donna imagined both the now-Doctor she knew and the future-Doctor standing in front of her, both bickering and insulting each other’s fashion sense and showing off their sonic screwdrivers, while Donna watched as an audience to what would seem like a comedic soap opera that her mum loved watching. God, that’d be a _ disaster. _

For a moment, Donna wanted to ask the Doctor if she could travel with him, to experience this Doctor of the future and his TARDIS. But she knew that would be _ not _ such a good idea, especially considering the Doctor (her Doctor, the spiky-haired, skinny, sandshoes one) would be here any moment. And that soap opera fantasy in her mind would come true. (She hoped that’d _ never _happen.)

“Wait, you’re leaving?” Donna frowned. “Alone?”

The Doctor laughed tentatively and shook his head. “I’ve still got companions, you know.” His smile quickly wavered away. “In fact, I should be picking them up by now.”

The Doctor placed his bowl of custard on the kitchen counter. There were still two crunchy-coated fish fingers in the bowl, dipped as if it was into a delectable sauce. Donna decided she’d clean up and wash the bowl before Sylvia or Wilf came home. If she didn’t, she was sure there was going to be some awkward discussions.

Donna led him back to the TARDIS. 

“Don’t tell my past self anything I told you,” he warned. “Paradoxes. Bad things. Bad things that can paradoxically tear the world apart.”

“Alright then, Spaceman,” she nodded. 

He was about to walk towards the door of that oh-so-familiar blue box, when something struck Donna. This future Doctor had told her he had companions. More and more companions. 

How about her? If the Doctor’s face changed, did his companions change, too? 

“Wait, Doctor,” she called, “if you’re the future Doctor, the Doctor after my one right now… where am I in this future?” He looked confused by this, and she added, “I plan to travel the world with you forever, you stupid spaceman, all of space and time - you know that!”

The Doctor turned away from her. Was he thinking about what he said? Did he not want Donna to travel with him forever?

“Doctor? I’ll travel with you forever, right?” 

He hesitated. Then he spun towards her happily, clasping her shoulders. “For as long as time allows,” he said, beaming at her. 

Though his eyes looked troubled, they still twinkled with the same light Donna’s Doctor had, and then and only then was she truly convinced that _ this _Doctor, this fez-wearing, this bowtie-sporting, this fish-finger-and-custard-eating, this young klutz of a spaceman was the same man who she had been currently travelling with. 

“See you, Donna Noble!”

The door closed, and she watched as the TARDIS dematerialised, until it was completely gone. 

She didn’t bother bringing this up to _ her _Doctor - the Doctor with spikey brown hair, shirt and tie with those stupid sandshoes - it didn’t seem like there was time anyway. When he had arrived only a mile away from her a short while later and told her they were on their way to the planet Midnight, with an anti-gravity restaurant “with bibs.” Interesting. She was ecstatic, nonetheless. 

_ /-/-/-/-/-/ _

The TARDIS had materialised in front of the Pond residence. Amy and Rory had been waiting for that familiar blue box to arrive, and they excitedly sped outside to greet the box and its master, who was eagerly waiting for his two friends. 

The door opened, and the Doctor had looked up from his book, and excitedly dropped it. The door to the box of Time and Relative Dimension in Space opened, and the first face he saw was a familiar redhead. He rushed towards her.

“Donna!” 

He was met with a confused look. “Do I look like a Donna to you, Raggedy Man?”

The Doctor turned red at this, redder than his fez. “Ah. Yes. Right. Sorry, Amy.” 

There was a pause. He knew Rory and Amy wanted to ask who Donna was, but he was thankful his two companions didn’t. 

Rory helped save the day from this awkward silence. “So, Doctor! New adventure, let’s go!”

He smiled. Maybe Donna would be a story for another day. Maybe, he would have the courage to tell them. After all, Donna was an amazing woman. She’d saved the universe and the whole of reality. 

For her, it was years since their last encounter, and the Donna of now wouldn’t even remember who the hell the Doctor was after all, whether he wore a tie or fez, braces or suit and coat, fish fingers or not. But at least, he hoped she was okay. Then he shook his head. Why the hell would he worry about self-independent Donna Noble, the most important woman in the universe, the only person in the Doctor’s 1100 and counting years of life who had the nerve to slap the Doctor (two separate _ incarnations _of the Doctor) in the cheek?

He jumped and ran the console, flipping the switches, pulling a lever, ringing a bell. “So, to Manhattan, right, Ponds?”

“Central Park, always wanted to go there!” Rory said happily.

“We can see the Statue of Liberty!” Amy nodded. 

“New York, New York! Frank Sinatra doesn’t do the Big Apple justice!_ It’s up to you, so New York, New York! _Ugh. That song’s horrible.”

“My dad likes it,” Rory muttered. 

“Frank Sinatra, great man, I showed him how to play Pac-Man.” The Doctor beamed at his two companions, his two best friends (and his two in-laws, but he wouldn’t admit it). “It would be nice to meet Frank Sinatra, wouldn’t it? But if you want to go to just 2012 New York, that’s fine with me…”

He heard the TARDIS dematerialise, on its way to the most famous city in the United States.


End file.
